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Where leafless Oaks towered high above, I sat within an undergrove Of tallest
hollies, tall and green ; A fairer bower was never seen. From year to year the
spacious floor With withered leaves is covered o'er, And all the year the bower is
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves The violets of five seasons re-
appear And fade, unseen by any human eye ; Where fairy water-breaks do
murmur on For ever, — and I saw the sparkling foam, And with my cheek on one
of those ...
Then up I rose, And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash And
merciless ravage ; and the shady nook Of hazels, and the green and mossy
bower, Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up Their quiet being : and, unless I
The shattered front of Newark's Towers, Renowned in Border story. Fair scenes
for childhood's opening bloom, For sportive youth to stray in ; For manhood to
enjoy his strength ; And age to wear away in ! Yon Cottage seems a bower of
bliss It ...
I. When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch On the tired household of
corporeal sense, And Fancy in her airy bower kept watch, Free to exert her
kindliest influence ; I saw — (but little boots it that my verse A shadowy visitation
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the kitten of the filling leaves bp[y willam words worth
My favorite is "Solitary Reaper". When I first read it, I fell in love with the poem. It's like Wordsworth wrote it for me only.
I always feel understood and totally embraced everytime I read this poem and walk away with a full heart.